


happy x-mas (war is over).

by porcelainsimplicity



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)
Genre: A Christmas present for Scarlett, A Christmas present for anyone who loves this pairing as much as I do, Christmas, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainsimplicity/pseuds/porcelainsimplicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Christmas tree was about two feet tall, just big enough to take one string of a hundred twinkling lights.  He bought the miniature ornaments that were only a dollar, and combined with the silver star atop it, they really made it look like an actual Christmas tree.  It sat right underneath the window, and maybe, he thought, by some chance, there would be a present under it when he woke up in the morning.</p><p>Except he knew for a fact that there wouldn't be, because no one knew where he was.  Well, one person did, but he'd been waiting for five years for that person to show up, and he gave up on that about three years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy x-mas (war is over).

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scarlett_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Phoenix/gifts).



> merry christmas! or happy christmas if that's what you say in your country! i tried to make this as happy as i possibly could, but happy is kind of not really possible with them all the time, so i did my best. 
> 
> this is for scarlett. <3

The Christmas tree was about two feet tall, just big enough to take one string of a hundred twinkling lights. He bought the miniature ornaments that were only a dollar, and combined with the silver star atop it, they really made it look like an actual Christmas tree. It sat right underneath the window, and maybe, he thought, by some chance, there would be a present under it when he woke up in the morning.

Except he knew for a fact that there wouldn't be, because no one knew where he was. Well, one person did, but he'd been waiting for five years for that person to show up, and he gave up on that about three years ago. 

Except not really, because he can never give up on Johnny, even when he gives him every reason in the world to do so. It's why he picked up his unconscious body and carried him away from Alcatraz before Dr. Grey started to obliterate everything; it's why even then, after everything he knew Johnny had done, he would have forgiven him in an instant if Johnny had just looked at him and said he was sorry.

A shake of the head knocked him back into reality, the reality where he lived in this tiny house in the middle of nowhere, Alaska. He knew that Storm wanted him to stay at the school; knew that Kitty wanted him to go to university with her; knew that Rogue came back expecting everything to be okay. But he couldn't stay at the school, and he didn't want to go to university, and everything wasn't okay. 

He'd come face to face with John Allerdyce again, and realized once and for all how absolutely ruined he was for anyone else. 

He'd carried Johnny to safety and then set him down somewhere on the other side of the bridge. Storm and Logan were yelling things at him, helicopters were flying overhead, Kitty was hovering somewhere nearby. He'd searched Johnny's pockets to see if he had any identification on him, found nothing but a piece of paper and a pen, and he'd smiled. St. John Allerdyce, always the writer, even when fighting a war.

A few years earlier, in exchange for him agreeing to never come home again, his parents had given him his portion of his grandfather's inheritance. He'd saved most of it in bank accounts all over the place, but he'd bought this tiny house in the middle of nowhere, Alaska as a place to escape to when the world got to be too much. The Professor knew about it – had been the one to help him get it, actually – and he was the only one who had. Not Storm, not Logan, not Kitty, not Rogue. And with the Professor dead, he was the only one left who knew about it.

Until he scribbled out the address on that piece of paper he found in Johnny's pocket, shoved it back in, and took off running with Kitty. As soon as Storm had a handle on the school, he'd left and made his way there, hoping that Johnny would be there waiting for him, knowing that he was just setting himself up for disappointment. 

And disappointment had finally given way to reality three years ago, when he decided that Johnny was never going to show up. Then a new kind of disappointment had set it, the kind that asked him why it was he'd wasted two years thinking that he ever would.

Don't ever think Bobby Drake doesn't know about disappointment. He knows all about disappointment. His parents, his brother, his girlfriend, but most importantly Johnny. About the only thing Johnny was ever good for was disappointing him. 

He reached out and turned on the radio, smiling when Christmas music started drifting out from the speakers. He glanced over at his little tree, proud of himself for actually trying to get into the spirit this year, and laid down on his sofa, letting memories of happier times wash over him as he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that it was considerably warmer, which should not be happening since he used the natural snow and ice outside to keep the house at a temperature that was just cool enough for him. He ran his hands over his face and sat up on the sofa, glancing around. The entire house was dark, which wasn't surprising for the middle of the afternoon this time of year, except for a soft glow coming from underneath the door into the kitchen.

His heart leapt into his throat. 

He slowly stood up, swallowing hard as he smoothed down his shirt and ran his hands through his hair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and a smile crossed his face as the faint smell of hot chocolate reached his nose. He took careful steps to the door to the kitchen, took another deep breath, and then opened it slowly.

This time, he wasn't disappointed.

Johnny was standing at the counter, back to the door. Candles were lit all over the place, and there was two mugs of hot chocolate sitting there. He watched as Johnny sprinkled tiny marshmallows into one mug then the other, and he decided that he should let Johnny know he was there. But before he could so much as cough, he heard the familiar raspy voice that told him Johnny had just smoked a couple of cigarettes.

“I know you're there, Drake. You can put down any weapons you may have. I'm not here to hurt you.”

That's when it occurred to him that maybe he should have had some sort of weapon when he opened the door to the kitchen, but it was too late for that. “You're here.”

“I'm here,” John said, picking up the mugs and turning around. “Hot chocolate?”

“I know for a fact that I didn't have any hot chocolate,” Bobby said, walking into the kitchen and sitting down at the small table.

“Yeah, well, I was expecting this place to be empty until I saw you coming in and out of it a few weeks ago,” John said, setting a mug down in front of Bobby and taking the other seat at the table. “I didn't think you'd actually be here.”

“Been here for five years,” Bobby murmured as he picked up the mug, instantly lowering the temperature because it was entirely too hot for him. 

“You've been here since Alcatraz?”

“Pretty much,” Bobby said, taking a sip of it before looking up at John. “Thought you might stop by at some point. Didn't think it would take you five years.”

John just shrugged. “There was a war to fight.”

Bobby knew all about that. “And now?”

“War's over,” John said, bringing the mug up to his lips. “Just want to have a normal life for once. Thought I could start over up here.”

“That's what I gave you the address for,” Bobby said softly. “So you had some place to go.”

John set the mug down and glanced up at Bobby through hair that was long enough to be hanging in his eyes, so much different than when Bobby had last seen him. “I know, Drake. But I just couldn't. Not until my part was through.”

“And it is now?”

John sighed. “You stay in touch with the X-Men?”

“Enough.”

“Then you know it is now.”

Bobby did. He knew. He knew all about what it was Johnny had done. “You defended the school.”

“They're just kids,” John mumbled with his lips to his mug. “They didn't deserve what that faction of the Brotherhood wanted to do to them.”

“Kitty sent me pictures of the scorch marks.”

“I only know one way to defend myself and others, Drake. Sorry if it damaged your precious little mansion too much.”

Bobby shook his head. “No, that's not what I meant. I meant I didn't think you could control flames that big for as long as it would have taken it make those marks. A wall of fire, Johnny. Impressive.”

“I only did it because I didn't want some dead five-year-old kids on my conscience for the rest of my life,” John said, setting the mug down and spinning it around. “I'm not suddenly a good guy, Drake.”

“You've never been a good guy, Johnny,” Bobby said, leaning back in his chair. “But you're lucky that I like you that way.”

John let out a laugh. “You still like me? I would have thought that isn't possible.”

“You fought for what you believed in,” Bobby said, shrugging. “Sure, I disagreed with that, but I respect your right to have a different opinion. And I was raised to respect someone who fought for what they believed in.”

“So you respect me?” John laughed. “I definitely don't deserve that.”

“I don't think you know what you deserve,” Bobby said, and John glanced down at that. “I don't know what he taught you, Johnny, but I know you deserved better than that.”

“Drake...”

“I know the cure is wearing off,” Bobby said suddenly. “I know he'll be in charge of the Brotherhood again any day now. I know he'll be expecting you to be there by his side. And yet, you're here.”

“I'm here,” John said, taking a deep breath. “So, how long till you kick me out?”

“I'm not going to kick you out,” Bobby said seriously. “But you are going to have to let me lower the temperature in here.”

John rolled his eyes. “Only you would want it to be an even thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit in your house.”

“They call me Iceman for a reason,” Bobby laughed. “Though no one has called me that in a very long time.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to be Pyro anymore,” John said seriously. “And the only person I've ever really been able to be just Johnny with is you. So that's why I came here. I thought maybe there might be some way here for me to contact you. Like I said, I wasn't expecting you to be here.”

“You got here a few weeks ago, you said?” Bobby asked. “Where have you been staying?”

“Tent in the forest,” John murmured. “It's dark for a long time around here.”

“You've been staying in a tent in the forest when you could have just come here?” Bobby asked. “Why the hell didn't you just come here?”

“Because I had to work up the courage to face you again!” John exclaimed, slumping down in his chair. “I've got thousands of memories of you, Drake. And every single one of them reminds me of how much you've been the only person I've ever loved. And I know there is no way you could ever feel that way for me, so yeah, it took me a few weeks to be prepared to see you, because I didn't know what kind of response I was going to get.”

Bobby picked up his mug and took a long sip of the hot chocolate before standing up and reaching for John. “Come on.”

John gave him a funny look, but let Bobby take him by the hand and lead him into the living room. Bobby collapsed onto the sofa so John did the same, and he flinched when Bobby's arm came around his shoulders. “Drake...”

“Shh,” Bobby said, finishing off his hot chocolate and putting the mug to the side. “Just close your eyes and listen to the music.”

John looked over at Bobby for a moment before shifting around until his head was on Bobby's shoulder, and then he let his eyes drift closed. The music drifted through the air, filling their ears with the sounds of John Lennon.

_And so this is Christmas_  
 _For weak and for strong_  
 _For rich and the poor ones_  
 _The world is so wrong_  
 _And so happy Christmas_  
 _For black and for white_  
 _For yellow and red ones_  
 _Let's stop all the fight_

“I missed you,” Bobby whispered. “And I have thousands of memories of you too, and every one of them reminds me of how much I loved you back.”

“And now we're here,” John whispered after a few moments.

“And now we're here,” Bobby whispered back. “And starting tomorrow, we're not Iceman and Pyro anymore. We're just Bobby and Johnny.”

John was silent for a long time, and then he sighed. “Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

Bobby let his head rest against John's, tightening his grip on his shoulders. “Merry Christmas, Johnny.”

It may not have been a gift underneath his little tree, but Bobby had never gotten a better Christmas present.


End file.
